


Wallflower

by Bloo (KiranInBlue)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Dadster, Family Feels, Gaster is a flawed dad, Gen, Sibling Bonding, Young Skelebros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:19:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24324910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiranInBlue/pseuds/Bloo
Summary: No one wants to hang out with Papyrus. Papyrus decides he needs to change that.
Relationships: Papyrus & Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 45





	Wallflower

Sans was always so cool. 

Everyone liked Sans. Sans could sit with anybody, and they’d let him in. Within minutes, they’d be laughing along with his jokes and punching him in the shoulder and all that other buddy-buddy stuff. At school, everyone knew Sans and wanted to hang out with him. At home, it was always Sans and Gaster together. Their father’s eyelights glowed with pride as Sans excelled in science, and he even let Sans work in his lab in the evenings after school. Papyrus was allowed to tag along if he wanted to, but he had to sit in the office and wasn’t allowed to touch anything. Papyrus tried to listen instead, but he didn’t understand all the talk of capacitors and relativity, and he didn’t understand why a positron walking into a bar was funny. 

Sans was so cool. Not like Papyrus.

No one wanted to sit with Papyrus. They’d politely nod at him, but then make excuses to go away. When Papyrus tried to tell his father about school, Gaster always looked tired, and he responded with short, one word answers. Like he didn’t really _want_ to be listening to Papyrus. Even Sans was just too busy with everything else that made him cool to hang out with Papyrus. He’d rap the top of Papyrus’ skull with his knuckles on his way out the door to the lab, or toss him a cookie from the snacks he was bringing over to Alphys’. But he never seemed to have time to sit and _listen_. 

It hurt. Every time someone would mumble a reason to leave, or make a distracted ‘hm’ sound without really listening to him, it felt like a shot right to his soul. He never let it show, though, because he wanted to be cool like his brother. 

Yeah. Cool like his brother. That was it, Papyrus thought, watching Sans and Gaster muttering about some kind of feedback problem over dinner. Gaster had barely looked at Papyrus all evening. The pre-prepared quiche tasted like cardboard in Papyrus’ mouth, and he picked at the now-cold crust. 

If he wasn’t cool now, he would have to _become_ cool. He was lucky to have such a great model to learn from. He was going to have to show everyone that he could be cool, just like his brother. The resolution blossomed in his head, like an echo flower, repeating the same thought over and over: _Cool like my brother. Cool like my brother_. 

—-

“Sans, you must leave for school. You’ll be late.” 

“It’ll be fine,” Sans reassured Gaster, as he pulled up another pillow on the couch. “They won’t care. But I can’t go without my jacket.”

“You go to school in Hotland.”

“Yeah, but we _live_ in Waterfall.” 

“Sans,” Gaster said, with measured patience. 

Sans waved him off irritably. “It’ll be fine. Just give me five minutes.” 

“Yeah, it’ll be fine!” Papyrus echoed from the top of the stairs. 

Sans looked up. His eyelights went out. “That’s my jacket.” 

Papyrus stuffed his hands in the pockets of the sweatshirt and tucked his face into the collar. “It’s mine today,” he said stubbornly. 

“It’s _obviously_ too big for you.” 

“No, it’s not.” 

Gaster sighed heavily. “Papyrus, give your brother back his jacket.”

“No!” Papyrus retorted. “He gets to wear it everyday!”

“That’s kind of because it’s my jacket,” Sans pointed out. 

“Well, I _need_ it today!” 

Gaster sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nasal bone. “Sans, wear another jacket for today.” 

“But that’s _my_ jacket!” 

“I know, and we will deal with it later. But you are running late for school.”

Muttering darkly, Sans snatched another sweatshirt out of the closet. He threw it on and swung his school bag over top. 

Papyrus bounded down the stairs, pleased with himself. He’d won the struggle for Sans’ jacket; surely, today, he was going to be cool. 

“Do you think it’s going to rain today on the way to school?” he asked Sans happily, as he pulled on his own backpack. 

“It always rains,” Sans grumbled. “And I’m not talking to you.” 

“That’s okay! I’ll just talk to you, then!” 

Sans sighed loudly. 

“Boys! Get along!” Gaster scolded. “Sans, be nice to your brother. Papyrus, try not to annoy Sans too much.” 

“We’ll be good!” Papyrus promised. “Bye!” He strutted out the door, grinning broadly. He had Sans’ jacket; he was cool like his brother. Today was going to be a good day.

\---

It was not a good day. 

No one even noticed Papyrus’ new jacket. In dodgeball, he was picked last. When they partnered up in class, Papyrus ended up working alone. At lunch, he tried to sit with some of his dog friends, but they just wanted to play fetch with his bones, which was really uncomfortable. After school, Sans left for the lab without even waiting for Papyrus. 

So, Papyrus trudged home alone, and arrived at an empty house. He turned on the lights, marched into the living room, and announced to no one: “I won’t give up! I _will_ be cool.” 

The problem, Papyrus decided, was that he’d been trying to fix the outside. To be really cool like his brother, he had to fix the _inside_. 

Papyrus strode upstairs to Sans’ room, and sat on the bed. He looked around, scrutinizing. To be cool, Papyrus had to learn to think like Sans. 

Sans’ room was messier than Papyrus’. It wasn’t, like, biohazard-bad, but while Papyrus tended to be careful to put everything in its proper place, clothes were strewn across the floor of Sans’ room. Books were laid out in haphazard piles on the desk, and a few empty wrappers had fallen just short of the trash can. There were sheets on the bed, but they were making a valiant effort at escaping the confines of the mattress. 

Papyrus looked down at himself, and then reached down and carefully pulled off one sock. It felt weird and unbalanced to have only one sock on, but Papyrus had seen Sans walk around like that dozens of times. This was cool. 

Papyrus also took in the decorations. Sans had fewer decorations than Papyrus did, and he didn’t have race car posters or action figures. There were a few magazine cut-outs with images of the stars from the surface plastered haphazardly on the wall, and a shaky drawing of their family Papyrus once made some years ago tacked to the right of the desk. Papyrus wondered if Sans remembered the drawing was still there, or if it had faded into the background for him. 

Papyrus got up and strode over to the desk. The books were a mix of physics textbooks and jokebooks. These, Papyrus realized, were the secret to Sans’ popularity: people loved Sans’ jokes, and Sans got to spend so much time with their father because he knew so much about science. Papyrus picked up one of the books: it was a hefty textbook with a bunch of circles on the cover. Inside, there were long math equations, the type with lots of letters in italics. Papyrus couldn’t begin to understand the equations, but he figured that’s why you weren’t supposed to flip to a random page in the middle of the book. Papyrus hugged the textbook to his chest, and grabbed a joke book as well. Then, he hurried from Sans’ room. 

\---

When Sans got home from the laboratory that night, he saw the jacket Papyrus stole from him hanging on the coat rack. Eagerly, he reached for it -- but when his phalanges grasped the fabric, there was a gross _squelch_ , and dark, muddy water dripped from the sleeve. 

“Dad! My jacket’s soaked!” 

Gaster peered at the sweatshirt disinterestedly. “It appears that Papyrus may have dropped it in a puddle. That will wash out.” 

“Now I can’t wear it tomorrow either,” Sans grumbled. “It’ll never be dry.” 

“Perhaps you should have a conversation with your brother about respecting your possessions.” 

“Why can’t you talk to him?” 

“It is your possession,” Gaster replied mildly. “Besides, if you want dinner, I should be in the kitchen, not tracking down your brother.” 

Sans muttered something under his breath and snatched up the soaked sweatshirt. 

“Papyrus!” he yelled, as he marched up the stairs. 

On the landing, Papyrus’ bedroom door cracked open. 

“Sans!” Papyrus responded. “Did you find my prank?” 

Sans, who had been planning to slam the sweatshirt on Papyrus’ desk and demand to know how he ruined it, pulled up short. “Prank?” he echoed.

“Yeah!” Papyrus pulled the door open properly. He stood in the frame, clutching a book to his chest, with a nervous, eager expression on his face. “Pranks are about doing something unexpected! Did you expect it?” 

Sans looked down at the dripping sweatshirt in his hand. “Well . . . no. No, I didn’t expect that.” He cracked a smile. “Heh. Good one.”

Papyrus beamed proudly. “I’m glad you liked it!” he said. “But now, I must get back to studying! I have a lot to read!” 

Sans finally noticed the book in Papyrus’ hands. “Hey, is that my physics textbook?”

“I’ll give it back! I just need it for like a day! . . . Maybe two.” 

“What do you need that for?” Sans asked, bewildered. “That’s high school physics. You’re, like, eleven.”

“I need to be cool like you!” Papyrus told him. “The sweatshirt wasn’t enough today. I need to learn how to think like you, too.” 

Sans’ brow lifted, and he huffed a startled laugh. “You’re trying to be like me?” 

“Obviously! Everybody likes you and wants to hang out with you. No one ever wants to hang out with me. But if I was like you, I’d be popular, too. So, I gotta learn to be just like you. Then I’ll be cool, and people will like me.” 

Oh. _Oh_. Sans felt as if the breath had been knocked out of him. 

“Pap . . . you’re already cool,” he said. “You don’t need to be like me.” 

Irritated, Papyrus scrunched his face up. “Yes I do! No one likes me! They like you!” 

“That’s not true. I like you,” Sans insisted. “Dad likes you.”

“No you don’t! All you ever do is go to the lab and talk about science and you don’t ever want to hang out with me! You don’t even read me bedtime stories anymore!” Papyrus sniffed hard, and Sans felt a wrench in his gut when he saw tears glistening in the corners of Papyrus’ eye sockets.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I . . . I thought you were too old for bedtime stories.” 

“No I’m not! How can you be too old for bedtime stories?!” 

Sans covered his face with one bony palm and smothered a weak, sad laugh. “Heh. Good point. Can I come inside, bro?” 

Papyrus eyed him warily, then gave a slight jerk of a nod and moved aside. 

Sans stepped into Papyrus’ room. The room was more cluttered than usual, but as if the mess had been carefully designed. Unwrinkled clothes were laid carefully on the ground, and the bed was _technically_ unmade, but folded down neatly. Sans sat heavily on the edge of the bed, and the creases that formed around him made more natural disorder than anything else in the room. 

“Papyrus,” Sans started. “Why, uh . . . why do you think you’re not cool?” 

Papyrus shrugged. He sat heavily on the bed next to Sans, but didn’t meet his gaze. “It’s obvious,” he mumbled. “I told you. No one likes me. But it’s okay. I’m going to learn physics and pranks, and then I’ll be cool.”

“Nah, Pap, you don’t need to know physics and pranks. You’re already the _coolest_. Other people are just . . . intimidated by you. Because you’re so cool.”

Papyrus squinted at him suspiciously. 

“I’m such a mess that I don’t intimidate anyone,” Sans insisted. “But you? You’re so cool. And no one looks cool next to you. But just give it time, okay? Then they’ll realize that not only are you cool, but you’re _so_ cool they’ll be cooler just by hanging out with you.”

“You’re just saying that,” Papyrus grumbled. “They don’t actually think I’m cool. They think I’m weird.” 

“No, really!” 

Papyrus shot him an incredulous look. 

So, Sans changed tracks. “Well, _I_ think you’re cool. I think you’re the coolest little brother in the world.” He reached out, and gingerly pulled Papyrus into a hug. 

Papyrus immediately latched onto Sans, arms twining tightly around Sans’ chest. “Why don’t you hang out with me, then?” he mumbled against Sans’ side. 

“Because I’m an idiot,” Sans said easily. “But that’s not gonna happen anymore. I promise. I’m gonna read you bedtime stories every night, even until you’re fifty.” 

Papyrus sniffed. “Okay.” 

“You just gotta promise me one thing.” 

“What?” 

“You gotta be yourself, Pap. Don’t be me. There’s only one Papyrus in the world, and I think he’s pretty awesome. Maybe other people don’t realize how cool you are yet, but they will. And it’d really suck if the one and only Papyrus wasn’t Papyrus. Deal?”

Papyrus lifted his head. He rubbed hard at one eye socket, and then offered Sans a watery smile. “Okay.” 

“Good.” Sans tucked his face against the top of Papyrus’ head and gave his shoulders a squeeze. “I love you, bro.” 

Papyrus did not let go. “I love you, too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for [gaymy-raudenfeld](https://gaymy-raudenfeld.tumblr.com/) on tumblr as part of the Fandom Supporting Migrants fundraiser from July 2019. I am so sorry about the extreme delay, and I hope you enjoy this story!


End file.
